


Take Your Own Advice

by poisonflowers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Dialogue, Drinking to Cope, F/F, F/M, Gambling, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonflowers/pseuds/poisonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric gives the Inquisitor some advice on her love life, and eventually figures out something about himself (Cole helps).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Varric was having a bad day. Bad week. A bad couple of years, really. First the mess with his brother, then his city exploded. His best friend, Hawke, had disappeard and then a very angry woman had put a knife through one of his books while trying to find her. A very angry, beautiful...

Nope, he didn't want to think about that. 

Then there was Bianca, who as it turned out was responsible for their red lyrium problem. No, HE was the one responsible, he never should have even told her about the stuff. It was all his fault...

He didn't want to think about that, either. 

"The heft in my hands, solid, strong, but curving, careful, like her." Cole said, appearing beside Varric.  "Soot, smudge on her cheek, tiny scars on her fingers, old fires, her little frowns when she twists her gear ever so slightly."

Varric sighed, "Yep. That's her, Kid." Bianca, the woman and the crossbow. 

Cole wandered off as Varric heard the Inquisitor approaching. 

It was hard not to hear her, Ashkost Adaar took the stairs to Skyhold's main hall three at a time, easy for the 7-foot-tall qunari woman. Even though she ducked her head her curved horns still brushed against the Inquisition drapery framing the hall's entrance. 

"Varric!" Adaar called, waiving at her favorite author. 

The dwarf smiled and stood up from his ink and parchment covered table. "What can I do for you, your inquisitorialness?"

"I want to give Sera a gift to show her how I feel. Any suggestions?"

"You and Sera, huh?" Varric chuckled, "Good one. That'll make some eyes twitch. A gift, though. Tricky business. Is it too obscure? Too on the nose? Will it be taken as intended? It's a pain in the ass. I wouldn't worry about it. If there's something she wants, she'll say. Sera's not big on subtext. Or footnotes. Or, you know, words of any sort."

Adaar sighed and rolled her eyes, "right, that was no help at all. I can't believe that out of everyone Vivienne has had the best idea." 

"Inquisitor, I can guarantee if it was from the Iron Lady, then it wasn't a real suggestion." He grinned and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "Sera hid a viper in her drawers." 

"I know. Vivienne sent it back to Sera, then I spent an evening searching the her room at the tavern for viper eggs." Adaar shuddered. 

Varric laughed, "and they say romance is dead." 

#

That night Varric entered The Herald's Rest and saw Adaar at the bar looking...very happy. She was flushed, and her long white hair had fallen out of its usual knot, the waves framed her gray face.

"Inquisitor," Varric said as he climbed up onto the bar stool next to her. "I take it the Iron Lady's suggestion worked, whatever it was?" 

"Not really, " Adaar said, squirming a bit in her seat. "And it's getting sort of itchy. But it turns out I got her a different gift, unintentionally, and she's happy! Sera, I mean, not Vivienne."

"Good," Varric said, signalling Cabot the bartender for his usual, "So...if you don't mind me asking, why Sera?" 

Adaar hummed into her drink, "what do you mean?"

"Well, and please don't take this the wrong way, but Sera's as anti-authority as they come. While you..."

"...while I sit in the big chair and decides who lives and dies?" Aadar finished, rather soberly considering how much ale she' d had.

"Right," Varric's said, as Cabot placed a cup of ale in front of him. "You aren't worried she'll disagree with you one day and then...'arrows'?"

Adaar shrugged. "Sera keeps me grounded. I never have to worry about all this," she gestured about the room, "Herald or Inquisitor business going to my head so long as she's with me. Around her I can just be a person."

"Fair enough," Varric said. "But back to my first question. Why Sera? Call it research for my next book."

She laughed, "Varric, I'm a warrior. A mercenary! I like to drink, I like to fight, and I like beautiful women."

"Hey, who knew we had so much in common?" Varric raised his cup to her in a toast, which she returned. 

"Now Sera," Adaar said, and smiled dreamily. "Do you remember the first thing she said to me?"

"Not really, I was a little distracted by the Orlesian with an arrow in his face."

"She said 'you're well fit!'" Adaar said, doing a passable impression of her lover before dissolving into girlish giggles. "She thinks I'm pretty, Varric! Sera may be the first person to tell me that since my parents, " Adaar paused to stare into her drink. "She also told me that she doesn't share. I don't get that often, you know? A lot of one-time flings, women interested in the novelty. No one has ever stuck around until now."

"I get you," Varric nodded, already composing the story in his head; the jaded, battle-weary Inquisitor won over by the pretty young elf's loyalty and frank admiration. Or something like that, he could edit later. 

But it needed some background. "So, speaking of flings, Inquisitor, was there...anyone else here? Before Sera, of course."

Aadar laughed and choked a bit on her drink "Maker, no! But not for lack of trying, mind you." She counted off on her fingers, "I flirted with our lovely, if oblivious, Madame Ambassador until Leliana, uh...intervened."

"Ouch. Yeah, between the blight and the conclave Nightingale has lost a lot of friends. She's rather protective of Josephine. Violently protective."

Adaar nodded, "Then there was Scout Harding-"

Varric laughed, "Shit! How would that even work? You're twice her size."

Adaar grinned, "height differences don't matter so much when you're lying down. You should ask The Iron Bull about it sometime."

"Yeah, I'll be sure and never, ever do that."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter, " Adaar said with a shrug. "Harding let me down gently, said that maybe I could buy her a drink. Someday. After we defeat Corypheus. No pressure there, right?" Adaar sighed, "And then there was Cassandra-"

It was Varric's turn to choke on his drink. The Inquisitor laughed and thumped him on the back until he could speak again. "You and Seeker? The Lady Cassandra, kidnapper of dwarfs, stabber of books. You're shitting me, Inquisitor."

"Am not," Adaar said with a grin. "She turned me down, too. I think she might have her eye on someone else here?"

"Really?" Varric murrmered into mug, "well whoever they are,  they have my condolences."

"Hm." Adaar stood up from the bar, only a little wobbly, and paid her tab as well as Varric's. "You know, you might try taking your own advice."

"What's that, Inquisitor?"

"If there's something she wants, she'll say." With that, Aadar left Varric to puzzle over her words while she climbed the stairs to her lover's room above the tavern. 

#

"Hey Varric, you think any harder there and you might accidentally shit out your next novel." The Iron Bull pulled up a stool beside Varric at the bar, tankard already in hand. 

"Hey Tiny, what can I do for you? Need some more cocoa?"

"Nah, that last shipment you found should last me a while. So, what's on your mind?"

"Hm?" Varric said, avoiding the qunari's one-eyed gaze, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon! Ben-hassrath, remember? Something's eating you up, ten silvers says it's a woman. Thinking about that hot smith girlfriend of yours?"

"Something like that." Vayyic said, hiding his face behind his drink. "Hey Tiny, did you know that the Seeker turned down a dalliance with our dear Inquisitor?"

"Huh, her too?"

"WHAT?"

The Iron Bull raised an eyebrow and starred down at the dwarf over the rim of his cup. "Guess the three of us haven't been on many missions together, huh? Adaar usually brings me, Cass and Ma'am along when she needs something big killed fast." He paused and grinned widely at this. "But yeah, Cassandra likes to flirt. Well, I do most of the flirting really, she just laughs. I think she likes the attention. She made sure I knew it was never going to happen, though. Too bad, she fights well, trains hard. I bet she has a nice ass under all that armor."

Varric closed his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please, Tiny. I do not want to think about the Seeker's ass."

"Keep telling yourself that, Varric."

#

Varric really didn't want to think about what the Inquisitor had said a few night's ago at the Herald's Rest. He had work to do, his next chapter of "Hard in Hightown" was past due and communications with his editor had devolved into her mailing him first blank parchment, then quills, and now a dagger. 

Varric understood the message, and was determined to stay at his desk until the chapter was finished. 

A dark shadow fell over his writing table. Varric sighed, "hello Inquisitor. Need something, or are you just here to admire the dwarf?"

Adaar looked down at him, a triumphant grin on her face. "Cassandra is waiting for the next chapter of Swords and Shields."

Varric and the Inquisitor kept talking, but his mind wasn't on the conversation. Cassandra liked his book? The Seeker, the tall, beauti- no. The angry woman who was always flipping him shit. The one with the nice...He still didn't want to think about that. 

If there's something she wants, she'll say.

"That's such a terrible idea, I have to do it."

#

Cassandra loved the book. Of course she loved it! And when she thanked him the smile that lit up her face...Had he ever really seen her smile before? Varric hadn't felt that awkward since he was a teenager.

Sure, they'd done a lot of awful shit to each other, but that's how people seemed to work. Isabela had almost let the Arishok destroy his city, but all it took was a few games of Wicked Grace and they were friends again. Hell, Bianca had left him at the altar, but fifteen years later they were still...something. Were they? After the red lyrium incident, well, it was going to take a lot more than letters and card games to fix things this time. 

"Long and lean, almost too tall for a dwarf but might feel right in my hands. Sharp like her words, sharp cheekbones, sharp laugh so rare but when it's earned..."

Cole again. The spirit boy had a way of sneaking up on people. "Sorry, Kid. I don't follow."

"You have a new dagger, on your desk. It needs a name. You had the right name all along- she won't be angry. She'll make her disgusted noise when you tell her, but with a smile now."

"Well...shit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faced with the realization that he may be in love, Varric decides to get very drunk. Worried, his friends call Cassandra in to help.

Varric was drunk. Really drunk. He'd been drinking seriously and with a clear purpose since just after dinner. 

The Herald's Rest was full that night. Blackwall and the Inquisitor had shared a pint at the bar early on, then the Warden had vanished just as the place started to fill up. After he left Adaar had gone upstairs to visit her lover. Now it sounded like they were shooting Sera's bedroom door full of arrows. 

Cole was seated in the rafters, rocking and kicking his feet in time to one of Maryden's songs. The Iron Bull was in his usual place, tonight joined by Dorian who felt compelled to use him as a chair. Bull didn't mind, it's not like Dorian weighed much and he was nice to look at. When Bull wasn't staring at the pretty mage he was keeping his good eye on Varric, counting the empty tankards in front of him. 

After seven Bull nodded to Krem, and his lieutenant nodded back. Krem then left his watchful perch atop a chair in the corner of the Tavern and went to fetch Cassandra.

"Just what do you propose I do about this?" Cassandra had been asleep and was not happy about being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to care for an inebriated dwarf. "Isn't Varric drunk most evenings?"

"No." Bull cocked his head to be sure he was looking Cassandra straight in the eye. With his good eye. "Most nights Varric has one drink, maybe two, and thinks I don't notice when he tops it off with water. He's an extrovert, needs to socialize, needs the audience. He doesn't need to drink. Until tonight," Bull turned his head towards the dwarf, obviously worried. "Tonight he's a man that wants to forget. Or wants to kill himself."

"Cabot started watering down his orders two hours ago. More than usual, that is," Krem said. "The Chief's right, Varric's in trouble. You going to get him out?"

"Me? What can I do?" The words came out harsher than Cassandra had intended. Her words usually did.

"I think she should kiss him," Dorian said, smiling up at Bull. "All this tension is appalling, it's like reading one of Varric's trashy novels."

Cassandra gritted her teeth. "I am right here."

"Yes, and he's right over there. What are you waiting for?"

"Ugh!" Cassandra cried out in disgust and made as if to leave, but Bull blocked her path. 

"The way I see it," Bull said, "is you dragged him all the way here. That makes him your responsibility. Same as me with any of my boys."

Cassandra sighed, resigned, and made her way over to Varric's table.

Bull leaned over to Krem and said in a low rumble, "you owe me two royals."

"Double or nothing she gives up and leaves him here," Krem said.

"You're on."

#

"Oh, not you. Anyone but you! Go away, Seeker." Varric grumbled into his mug.

Instead she stood above him, arms crossed and disapproving look on her face, "Enough of this, Varric. Your friends are worried about you. Go to bed."

Varric shook his head, downed his drink and signaled for another. "Nope, 'fraid I can't do that."

"Ugh!" Cassandra made a noise of disgust, snatched up the drink Cabot was delivering to Varric, and sat down beside him. "It is not healthy to drink alone." She took a large gulp, then choked, sputtering on the vile stuff.

"It's not healthy to drink that at all," Varric said with a smile, signalling for another. 

"I thought you hated dwarven ale, " Cassandra said, eyeing the foul black liquid.

"Surprised you remembered," Varric said. "I do, but it does the job. Makes you forget how shitty it is to be a dwarf."

"Hm, Bull did say you were drinking to forget tonight," Cassandra said, taking another cautious sip.

"Tiny needs to mind his own damn business."

"He would not be a very good spy if he did." Cassandra said. Varric laughed at this. Good, anything to draw him out of this dark mood. "What is troubling you?"

Cabot came just then with another drink, this one noticibly lighter in color, mostly water. Varric was too far gone to notice, he took a deep drink, then stared down at his hands for a time, fidgeting.

"I was feeling guilty, Seeker. And rather than deal with it, I decided to go get smashed. S'no big deal."

"Whatever could you have to feel guilty about?" Cassandra asked, genuinely puzzled, "True, I was angry at first that you had lied to me about Hawke, but I understand now that you were only doing what you must to protect your friend. Had she been at the Conclave, she would have died along with all the others-"

Varric shook his head and clamped a hand down on Cassandra's shoulder, then quickly removed it, as though burnt. "No no no, s'not that." He paused to take another drink. "I-I've been unfaithful, Seeker."

"Yes, I know."

Varric head shot around at this, "you do?"

"Yes. I understand your Bianca is married."

Varric snarled and took another drink. "Oh have we reached the state where we gossip about each other's love lives? Does that mean I could ask about your 'conquests'?"

"I have no 'conquests'." Cassandra hissed. 

"How about dalliances? Liaisons? Illicit affairs?" Varric knew he should stop poking, but the drink egged him on.

"Very well, Varric," Cassandra said with a sigh. "If you wish to know about men I have known, I will tell you."

Aw shit, he hadn't expected a confession, he just wanted her to go away. Well, not really, he wanted her to stay and never leave, but was too full of self pity to admit it. "Look, Seeker. I was only..."

Cassandra waived him off, "years ago, I knew a young mage named Regalyan. He was dashing, unlike any men I met. He died at the Conclave."

"...oh." Well, if he hadn't felt like a jackass already he sure did now.

"What we had was fleeting. And years had passed. Still, it saddens me to think he's gone."

"I'm sorry." Varric sighed and pushed away his cup. "Look, Seeker, I didn't mean to make you talk about your mage friend."

"I know. I was not trying to make you speak of Bianca." She leaned toward him, one corner of her mouth turned up. "If I was, you would know. I would yell, books would be stabbed."

Varric laughed, "I'll keep that in mind."

"I only wished to know what was troubling you. It pains me to see you like this, my friend."

Friend? Okay, that was a start. "Bianca is married," he said, steadily. "But it was arranged, all her family's idea. She never loved ol' what's-his-face. And I-" he paused here, embarrassed, and ran a hand over his face and through his strawberry blonde hair. "Sometimes I'd distract myself-"

"The Blooming Rose." Cassandra said evenly. Varric made a face. "It is a profession, Varric. Not one of the Chantry's favorites I grant you, but one I am aware of."

A corner of Varric's mouth quirked up. "Yes. But I didn't love any of them. I'm not that stupid."

Cassandra nodded, "so you had both agreed to be emotionally faithful when you were not free to do so physically."

Varric nodded. He reached for his drink again, but Cassandra was too quick and pulled it a way. She shoved a tankard of water into his hand. Varric grimaced, "and now I've met someone else. I've got to tell her." He raised the cup to his lips. "Tell both of them, really," he murmured into his mug.

"Varric, I think that's wonderful."

He looked up at her, eyes wide, "you do?"

"Yes of course! As romantic as the idea of a pair of star-crossed lovers confessing their feelings only through letters might seem in one of your novels, I much prefer to see my friends happy. Your love, she is here? With the Inquisition?"

"Er- well, yeah. She is."

Cassandra sighed, content, "it is so romantic how many of our people find happiness even in these dark times. The Inquisitor and Sera, Bull and Dorian, Josephine and Blackwall." She smiled softly down at him. "And Krem thinks no one has noticed him making eyes at that bard."

Varric smiled back, encouraged, " how about you, Seeker? Anyone within, say, a five foot radius caught your eye?"

Cassandra froze, her face suddenly hot. "This... is not a discussion I want to have here."

Varric laughed. "Are you blushing, Seeker? Maker the world is really coming to an end."

#

Hours later they left the tavern. Varric saw Krem grumpily throw a handful of coins at his commander, Bull laughing uproariously as they bounced off his chest and horns. Varric decided not to investigate, he'd get the full story tomorrow.

Cassandra had insisted on seeing him to his room, though Varric claimed to have sobered up considerably he was still unsteady on his feet. They climbed the stairs to the great hall, Varric going first, again at Cassandra's insistance. 

"In case you fall," she said. "I should be a few steps behind to catch you."

"I'm not gonna fall, Seeker." He turned around to face her and, being two steps higher, found he was looking at her straight in the eye. "Well, whatta ya know," he said with a grin. "I'm finally taller than you! Can't let an opportunity like this go to waste."

Cassandra frowned and opened her mouth to tell Varric to move, but before she could he bent down and kissed her.

It was quick at first, just a light brush of his lips. But when she neither protested nor struck him, he bent down again. This time he cupped her cheek in a trembling hand, gave it his all.

Cassandra stiffened for a moment, then melted into him, returning the kiss as she ran both hands through his chest hair. Of course, women loved the chest hair.

Then she pushed him away, gently, and raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Sorry, Seeker. I'm sorry-" Varric stammered, his hands raised defensively in front of him. "I didn't mean...shit. I don't want to lie to you anymore. I meant all of it. But I understand if you don't-"

Cassandra smiled, and walked up the steps to stand beside him. She bent down and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek, silencing him. "There. That's better," she said, then kissed him properly.

They were interrupted then by the sound of hoots, laughter and applause coming from the tavern. Varric turned to look- The Inquisitor and Sera were seated on the roof, each enjoying a pint and...we're those cookies? Their noise had drawn Bull and Dorian out front, and the mage seemed to be collecting on a rather large bet from his qunari lover, who didn't seem all that upset about it.

Varric looked up as Cassandra, who was now very red and hiding her face. "I should go," she said as she glanced around nervously. 

"Right, I get you," Varric said, his voice small. "Embarrassed to be seen with the dwarf?"

"Never!" Cassandra frowned, grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him up for another kiss. Their audience applauded. She released him, "it is late, Varric. I will see you tomorrow."

Varric laughed and gave a little mock now, "yours to command, Lady Pentaghast."

Cassandra's mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about half a foot taller than my husband. Stairs are always an opportunity.


	3. Chapter 3

Varric squinted awake early the next morning. The sun was shining in his eyes, he'd forgotten to close the heavy drapes last night. He attempted to sit up, to close the curtains and go back to sleep, but then thought better of it. Instead he lay back on his pillow, stared at the pattern of shadows on his ceiling, and waited for the regret to set it.

His mind was fuzzy. Ugh, so was his tongue. Last night after dinner he'd tried to write Bianca a letter, calling the whole thing off, wishing her well and for a good life with her husband- and without Varric. But he'd ended up getting drunk instead. Varric didn't quite regret that. Not yet. Maybe he should have written the letter and _then_ gotten drunk.

Still, he hadn't put 'em away like that since...his brother died? No, he and Hawke had split a bottle of Antivan brandy over that. Marion had been more upset than Varric that night- the whole nasty business had made her think of Carver again. No, the last time Varric drank that much dwarven ale was...after Bianca left him at the altar. Shit.

Then he'd started a fight with the Seeker. Okay, he could feel like shit about making her talk about her dead boyfriend. What's-his-name, Regalyan? The mage had died recently, too, at the Conclave. No wonder Cassandra had taken to reading his awful romance serials, they must have been a comfort.

But then Varric had made Cassandra laugh, so he couldn't regret that. And when they'd left the bar...shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

No, not complete shit. She had kissed him back instead of slugging him. And in front of everyone! That was a small victory. Would have been a better if she had followed him back to his rooms- wait, hadn't she? He had a vague memory of...

Varric managed, with some difficulty, to turn his head. On the bedside table there was a healing potion, a pitcher of water and half a loaf of dry bread. Cassandra must have left it for him, knowing how sick he'd be in the morning. She was taking care of him. Being...nice. Varric groaned and covered his face with his hands. He was so fucked.

Outside he could hear the crash of swords mixed with shouts and grunts of the warriors up at dawn to train.

"C'mon Seeker, cut loose and hit me already! I can feel the frustration in your swings," Iron Bull's deep voice cut through the noise.

"How odd, since I'm feeling so much less frustrated as of late," Cassandra responded dryly.

"Hah!" Varric chuckled along with Iron Bull's booming laughter, then immediately regretted it. His head aching, he rolled onto his side and downed the healing potion in one go. After a minute he was able to sit up and chew on some dry bread to get rid of the astringent taste of elfroot. He'd just about worked up the nerve to try some water when there was a knock at the door.

Sera, of all people, came bouncing through. "Hey Dwarfy," she said, a little too loud and a little too cheerful. "Good job not puking on the sheets. Ready to go?"

"Go?" Varric tilted his head to the side like a confused mabari, "go where, Buttercup?"

"Inky's taking a trip to the Hinterlands. No big bads this time, just to help some people. People people." Sera grinned down at Varric, "she wants you to come with. And princess no-breeches out there."

"Who?"

"Casaaaaandraaahahaha!," Sera drew the word out in a teasing tone that dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"That doesn't make any sense," Varric sighed. "A party of two warriors and two rogues. What are we going to do if we run into more Venatori?"

"We run like hell," Sera scoffed. "Besides, I'm just along for Red Jenny biz, once that's managed I'll scarper and tag Dorian in."

Varric's shoulders slumped and he ran a hand over his face. "This is a trap, isn't it?"

"Yup. Deal with it."

"Fine, when are we leaving?"

"Hmm..." Sera bent down to look Varric in the eye, "well it was gonna be now, but I don't think you'd survive. Your eyes are red as your shirt! I'll tell Inky to push it back a day, right?"

"Appreciate it," Varric said as he pushed himself off the bed. "No get out of my room, Buttercup, unless you plan on helping me bathe?"

"Ugh, dwarfy dangly bits, no thanks," Sera skipped towards the door. "Want me to call Cassandra here for you, in case you drop the soap?"

She cackled and disappeared behind the door, just as Varric threw a pillow at it. He sighed and looked around the room. One day. There was a lot that could get done in a day, if you put your mind to it. But first thing's first, he thought as he sniffed his tunic. He really did need a bath.

#

An hour later Varric skirted the edges of the main hall, then skipped down the stairs to the Undercroft. Wait, skipped? No, he had definitely skipped. Maker, what was happening?

"Hi Varric!" Dagna's cheerful voice derailed his train of thought. "Never seen you down here before, finally going to let me take a look at Bianca?"

"Sorry Bubbles, but that's never going to happen. I've got a different project for you," he pulled out the dagger that his editor had sent him and held it out to her, handle first. "You're smith caste, from Orzammar, right? A dagger alone isn't much good in a fight, I need you to make her a twin."

"Ooh, that is pretty," Dagna said, examining the blade with proper reverence. "Looks Dwarven made, and...Nevarrite? Sure, we've got plenty of that lying around ever since the last expedition to the Hissing Wastes."

Varric pinched his eyes shut. Nevarrite? And Cassandra was Nevarran? This was so bad, it was like something that hack who'd written _Hard in Hightown II_   woulda come up with. "Right, it sounds like you can handle the job?"

"Oh sure, piece of cake. When do you need the twin by?"

"...tomorrow? Her Inquisitorialness wants me in the Hinterlands, first thing."

"Varric! By all the beards of my ancestors," Dagna scowled at him. Or at least she tried, the kid was so cheerful it was like her face didn't know how to look unhappy. "That'll take me all day! I have other things to do, you know."

"Name your price."

Dagna's face lit up, "I want Bianca."

"No can do, Bubbles," Varric sighed. "If the Carta gots wind of it, if they thought you might be able to make another one, things would be bad."

"I don't want to duplicate Biance, promise," Dagna said. "This is purely professional curiosity."

"Hm," Varric scratched at his cheek. He needed the other dagger, there was no way he could take the crossbow out into the field again. Not after last night. "Right, you want a date with Bianca? She stays in my room. You can meet her there, I'll leave you the key. But you can't kiss and tell- if anyone asks you never saw Bianca. Say you were just in my room sneaking a peak at the latest book or something. Deal?"

Dagna beamed, "it's a deal! Though I could have done without all the innuendo."

"Sorry, old habits." The two dwarves shook hands on it.

Varric had started back up the stairs when he was called back with a gruff, "oi!" from Harrit.

Varric hadn't even noticed him there, the old blacksmith was such a part of the Undercroft he blended into the background. "Sorry, Harritt. You'll keep this to yourself, right?"

"Hmph," Harritt replied through his mustache.

"Don't worry," Dagna called. "He doesn't talk much anyway."

"I do when I got something to say," the blacksmith shot back. "You, dwarf. You know how to use those daggers? I won't have us wasting Inquisition resources on a weapon you can't properly wield."

"Of course I know how to- What kind of rogue would I be if-" Varric spluttered. Then again, Harritt did have a point. When was the last time he'd even practiced with another weapon besides Bianca?

"Thought so," Harritt nodded, and handed Varric a set of cheap iron blades. "You go train with these. And here, this'll help," he handed Varric a crystal amulet.

Varric turned the amulet over in his hands and read the inscription. "The Tactician's Renewal?" He looked up at the blacksmith, "what's this supposed to do?"

Harritt shrugged, "what do I look like, a tranquil?"

"Well now that you mention it-"

"It's enchanted, innit? Now get out of my forge, we both have work to do." Harritt turned his back to Varric. From across the room, Dagna shrugged apologetically, then turned her attention back to her anvil.

Varric slipped the amulet over his head. The crystal cracked and suddenly his mind felt...clear. Clearer than it had in years actually, like he was a kid back in school ready to soak up everything his teacher had to say. He grinned, tossed one of the cheap iron daggers in his hand, and made his way out of the Undercroft. He skipped through the main hall in the direction of the practice yards, whistling.

Really? He was whistling now?

Maferath's balls...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the Hinterlands cut short, but at least Varric gets to try out his new weapons.

Varric volunteered to take the first watch that night. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep soon anyway, his knees were sore from hiking through the Hinterlands all day. It was just like Sera had promised, the Inquisitor had them running errands for the "people people". It was all things that Varric would have expected any other leader to delegate, but Adaar insisted on doing herself. They'd delivered letters, medicine, chased down a villager's pet ram, tossed some flowers on a grave, then gathered enough herbs, skins and meat to keep the refugees happy all winter. Or at least as happy as you could expect refugees to be. 

They'd also managed to avoid trouble during the day's adventures. Well, mostly avoid it. Varric had only found one opportunity to try out his new weapons, when he took out a ram meant to help feed the villagers cleanly with a dagger between the eyes at forty paces. Of course the Seeker hadn't him in action. By the time he'd caught up with the rest of their party, the Inquisitor and Cassandra had already finished off the tiny band of Venatori. 

Could be that his pride was as sore as his knees.

The night watch was done in pairs, so the Seeker sat next to Varric by the campfire. Well, not _next_ to him, they each had their own rock, but she was facing him. Progress. 

Cassandra was reading...something. Varric couldn't see the cover, the Seeker curled around the book when she read like she was trying to fall into the story, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't anything he had written. Varric scribbled away in a notebook and tried not to glance over at her too often. 

"Are you...working on a new book?". Cassandra's voice made him jump.

"Nah, Seeker. Well, not yet," Varric gestured to the page. "It's just notes right now. Observations, bits of dialogue. They might make it into a book someday."

"Have you been taking notes on all this, Varric?"

"You'll need to be more specific there, Seeker."

"The Inquisition! You're not planning to write a book about _us_ , are you?"

"Don't get your hopes up. You're not that interesting a subject." Damn, the Seeker's eyes narrowed. Varric hadn't meant that to be hurtful, he needed to remind himself that he couldn't joke with her the same way he did Hawke or Rivaini. Casssandra was more like Daisy- Less naive and with better armor (in more ways than one) but they both wore their hearts on their sleeve. He'd have remember to be more careful with it. 

Cassandra leaned towards him then, to peer over his shoulder. Varric held his breath. 

"You have been drawing," Cassandra squinted her eyes, moved in closer, then made a small noise of disgust, "breasts. In the margins."

Shit. "Well Seeker, it is a romance serial. Trying to get in the right frame of mind." Varric hastily shut his notebook. 

Cassandra sat back, her face unreadable in the low, flickering light. "I very much enjoyed your last chapter of _Swords and Shields_. Does the guard captain truly intend to court one of her own guardsmen?"

"She intends to. Can't say if it'll be a successful attempt or not," he chuckled to himself, remembering the copper marigolds.There was no way he could work that scene into the book without Aveline catching on. His readers wouldn't believe it, anyway. Reality was usually too weird to be believable. 

Cassandra huffed, "after all she had been through, the guard captain deserves so much more. The guardsman should be court in her!"

"Really, Seeker? You think a strong woman like Ave..I mean, _Emmaline_ , would wait around to be noticed? She'd go after what she wants!"

Cassandra shook her head, "it is not that- I believe the guard captain deserves the ideal. To be courted with flowers, read poetry by candlelight. This Connic should sweep her off her feet! It is a _romance_ novel, Varric. It should be romantic."

He hummed noncommittally, then reopened his book and made a few notes. 

Just then Cassandra and Varric were started by a loud rustling noise behind them. They turned, hands flying to their weapons. 

"It's only me," the Inquisitor said, hands raised in front of her. "Though glad to see you're both still up and alert."

"Of course, Inquisitor!" Cassandra sat up straighter, "I would never fall asleep on watch."

"I never doubted you, Lady Cassandra," Adaar said with mock seriousness. "It's the dwarf we have to worry about."

"Hey!" Varric protested, remembering The Incident. The one that had prompted Leliana to order there should always be two members of the Inquisition on watch while camping in the field. "That was only the one time! And you and Buttercup had your revenge." He turned to Cassandra. "They found me asleep by the fire and drew a dick on my forehead. I didn't notice until midday when I saw my reflection in that Red Templar's shield!"

If Varric were writing this story the Seeker would have made a noise of disgust and looked scornfully over at either Adaar for the ill-advised prank, or at Varric for putting the Inquisitor at risk by falling asleep the watch. 

Instead, she laughed. And the sound was so lovely that Varric even didn't care if she was laughing _at_ him or _with_ him. 

"Well both you're free to fall asleep now," Adaar said, laughing along with the Seeker. "I'm taking over the watch."

Cassandra nodded, rose, and started back towards their tent. After a few steps she paused and turned her head, "are you coming, Varric?"

"Nah," the dwarf waved her off, hoping the firelight hid his red face and that she hadn't noticed him leering at her as she walked away. "Two people on watch, remember? Can't let word get back to Nightingale that I fell asleep on the job. Again. You go ahead, Cass. I'll stay up and wait for Buttercup."

The Seeker nodded and disappeared into their tent. 

"Cass?" Addar raised an eyebrow.

"Just...something I'm trying out."

"Varric my friend," Adaar sighed, "you are an idiot."

He sighed. "Tell me something I don't know, Inquisitor."

The 7-foot-tall qunari woman squatted beside the fire, then ducked her head down closer to whisper to the dwarf. "A beautiful woman just invited you back to her tent," Adaar hissed. "If it were me, I'd be in there right now with my face buried between those thick thighs of hers."

"Inquisitor!"

"What? I've seen you looking.Vashedan- I saw that kiss!"

"We were drunk," Varric waived away the comment. "And given my history- both our histories, really- can you blame me for cautious? I just want to do something right. For once."

The Inquisitor grinned down at him, eyes shining. "You liiike her!" 

"Very mature, Inquisitor."

 Adaar snorted, "I'm plenty mature! I'm in a committed relationship, Sera knows how I feel. You're the one that needs to grow up and deal with your feelings."

"I don't...I don't deal with things. If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here I'd be in Kirkwall right now pretending none of this was happening. The breach, the red lyrium, all of it."

"Sounds like Cassandra did you a favor then."

Varric was quiet for a while as he stared up at the night sky. There were more stars out here than he'd been able to see back home in Kirkwall.

"Maybe she did." 

#

Varric woke the next morning to an empty tent. The Seeker had been out like a light when Buttercup had finally relieved from his turn on watch. Cassandra been his opposite in everything else so far, it was no surprise to find that the Seeker was both a heavy sleeper and early riser. 

He crawled out from the tent, squinting at the brightness, and saw Inquisitor Adaar and Scout Harding engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. The Seeker stood nearby, arms crossed. She looked unhappy. But then again she usually did, Broody and Aveline had both been the same way. Was there such a thing as "resting warrior face"?

"Varric," Adaar called, waving him over. "Bad news." 

Of course. "Let me guess," Varric said, as he stretched and sauntered over. "Corypheus has recruited the _bears_ now. All bears in Thedas are officially declared enemies of the Inquisition." 

Scout Harding giggled, "that sure would explain a lot."

The Inquisitor didn't crack a smile, "Dorian and Bull are waiting for me back in Redcliff, there's a retainer from Tevinter here, and I need to...it would be better if I was present for this meeting. I'm sorry, but I have to send you and Cassandra back to Skyhold early."

"Why can't we come?" Varric said, "I've never seen a 'Tevinter retainer' before. Be nice to know if they're all as fussy as our Sparkler."

"The Inquisitor should  travel with no more than three members of her inner circle at a time," Cassandra said, stepping forward. "Leliana's orders. Outside of the safety of Skyhold, it would be too easy for Corypheus to cripple the entire Inquisition with one well-aimed strike." 

"Huh," Varric said with a shrug. "I'd always wondered about that. All right, Seeker, when are we hitting the road?"

"Now." Cassandra nodded sharply and headed towards the tent.

"She's not happy with me," Adaar said wearily.

Varric laughed, "and she's usually so damn cheerful."

"Cassandra thinks it's a trap. It probably _is_ a trap but I still have to go. Damn, some days I wish Shokrakar had taken that security job at the Conclave instead of me."

"But then we never would have met! And where would you be without your favorite dwarf?"

"Hey!" Scout Harding piped up. "I thought I was your favorite dwarf?"

The corner of Adaar's mouth twitched. "As Inquisitor it would be wrong of me to play favorites. Travel safe, I'll see you back at Skyhold."

Varric tipped his head in goodbye, then turned to Harding as Adaar went off to wake Sera. "So Freckles, what's the plan?"

Harding pulled out the map just as Cassandra returned with her pack, "quickest way to Skyhold from here is to take a boat across Lake Calehnhad."

"Not another boat," Varric groaned. "We just spent weeks on a ship getting here from Kirkwall."

"It was a long journey to Haven." Cassandra said in agreement.

"Considering the company, I'm surprised it didn't feel longer," Varric murmured, but when he saw Cassandra's eyes narrow again he raised his hands defensively. "Hey Seeker, I know Curly and I weren't much fun for you on that trip. What with my seasickness and his lyrium withdrawls."

Better, she almost smiled that time. "Thank you, Scout Harding, we will take the boat," Cassandra said, then turned to Varric. "Pack quickly, dwarf. Let us get this journey over with."

Varric and Harding watched her stalk off towards the edge of camp. "I'll leave you a cache of spindleweed near the docks," Harding whispered. "It's supposed to help with seasickness."

"Thanks, Freckles." Varric said. "I'll need all the help I can get on this trip."

#


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument and an ending.

More shocking than a hole in the sky that spit out demons, they made it across Lake Calehnhad without Varric getting sick. Now it was just a quick hike through Gherlen's Pass and they'd be back at Skyhold. Problem was, dwarves weren't really made for hiking.

"Is even terrain too much to ask for?" Varric groaned struggling to keep up with the Seeker's pace.

Cassandra stopped, "Is there a problem?"

"You might be used to traipsing through the countryside-" Varric said, taking advantage of the pause to rest his pack on the ground, "-punching dragons, interrogating people, or whatever it is you did before this. I'm from the city."

Cassandra laughed and Varric's heart did a little dance.

"If we continue to hike at this pace we will not make it to Skyhold until after dark," she said. "We could make camp if you prefer, Varric."

"That...that would be really nice, Seeker."

"Try not to sound so surprised, Varric. I can be nice, when I chose to. "

There was comfort in the routine of setting up camp. Cassandra chopped firewood and pitched the tent, while Varric fetched water and hunted down a nug for their meal. Braised nug with elfroot had always been Bartrand's favorite, so of course Varric hated it. But he was tired and hungry, and the weird little rodents were easy to kill.

He took one down easily with his daggers, then brought the carcass back to camp to clean and cook. On the way he came across a small patch of wildflowers peaking out from beneath the snow. It gave him an idea.

"Seeker!" Varric shouted out a friendly greeting as he strode back into camp, "here, I thought you might like these." Her face lit up as she accepted the small bouquet.

"Andraste's Grace," she said, and breathed in their heavy scent. "Leliana always kept a vase of these in her rooms back at the Grand Cathedral." She smiled down at him, "Thank you, Varric. They remind me of happier times."

"You're welcome, Seeker."

Cassandra stashed the flowers away in their tent, then returned to feed branches into the campfire and watch as Varric arranged the nug on a spit.

"Varric," she said carefully, "how did you kill this animal? The wound is too large to be from a crossbow bolt."

He shrugged, "you really wanna talk about hunting, Seeker? Not my favorite topic, but there was this one time when Hawke and I were camping out on the Wounded Coast-"

Cassandra shook her head, "No more stories, Varric! I wish to know why I have not seen 'Bianca' on this journey."

Shit. "It...I didn't feel right bringing her along. Not after what happened with the red lyrium. She may be benched for some time." He left their dinner to roast over the fire, cleaned his hands on a spare handkerchief, then pulled out his new weapons. "My editor sent me this a couple of weeks ago," he said, gesturing to the dagger in his right hand, "then I had Bubbles, er, Dagna, make her a twin."

Cassandra smiled faintly, "when you spoke of your editor, I had always assumed you meant your crossbow."

"No my actual editor! Best in the business," Varric laughed. "Runs half the Coterie in Kirkwall. And she's a stickler for grammar, once killed a man over a semicolon. I'd never print anything without her."

Cassandra gestured to the weapons. "May I?"

Varric nodded, and held his breath as she picked the daggers and examined them.

"Your editor has fine taste in blades. These are beautiful."

"Just like their namesake," Varric said.

Cassandra sighed and returned the weapons to him- handle first he was happy to notice. "I see you have not changed," she said. " So, if not 'Bianca' then what do you call these?"

Shit and shit again, it was time to deal. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly as he put the daggers away, back in their sheaths. "I didn't know what to name the first dagger when she arrived. The Kid had to help me out, said I'd known the name all along but was too afraid to say."

"I was wary of Cole at first, but the spirit's observations often prove insightful," Cassandra said.

Varric nodded in agreement. "So...I've been calling her 'Cassandra'." He looked up. "Not sure what to call to call the twin yet, 'Seeker' maybe?"

Varric held her gaze, determined to see this through. He half expected the Seeker to slug him, or angrily stalk off away from the camp, or call him a liar like she had so many times before.

He never expected her to kiss him again.

Or more accurately, Cassandra collided with him, knocking him off the rock where he sat and onto his back, crushing her lips into his. Varric's hands flew to face, first cupping her jaw reverently then sliding around to tangle in her hair and pull her closer. All too soon she sat up. They were both red faced and breathless.

"You romantic fool of a dwarf," Cassandra whispered. "I never thought-"

"Never?" Varric chuckled, "this isn't the first time we've kissed, Seeker."

She ducked her chin, "you were drunk. I convinced myself you did not know what you were doing. I dared not hope-"

Varric pulled her down to kiss him again.

#

"Our dinner is likely burnt," Cassandra said, hours later as she stretched out languidly out on top of their bedrolls.

"I don't care," Varric growled as he leaned down to pepper her neck with kisses again. "I don't need food, I don't even like nug. Everything I need is inside this tent. Let's never leave again."

Cassandra batted his arm playfully. "I am hungry. There is water and some rations in my pack."

Varric reached across the tent, dug out the food and the waterskin, then passed Cassandra half the rations, "here, build your strength up for the next round."

She rolled here eyes and bit into the strip of dried druffalo meat. "Have you written to your Bianca?" Cassandra asked quietly. "About what we spoke of...the other night, at the tavern."

Varric raised an eyebrow, "bringing up my ex? Is this your idea of pillow talk, Seeker?"

"If you wanted sweetness and light, you picked the wrong woman."

Varric sighed wearily, "sure I've written her about a hundred different letters. Or, a hundred different versions of the same letter."

"Ugh," Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Have you sent any of them, dwarf?"

"Not a one," he paused to take a swig from the waterskin, then passed it to the lady. "Nothing I've come up with seems right. It's hard to bare my soul and end a fifteen year affair while writing in code so the Merchant's Guild doesn't catch on and send assassins."

"Why would they send assassins, would not the Guild be happy you ended things?"

"They'd send assassins as a matter of principal." Varric sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I'm getting old, Cass. I'm tired of fighting, and tired of sneaking around."

"Then stop doing those things," Cassandra snapped. "Be honest with your Bianca. And with me, is this what you want, or was tonight just another one of your lies?"

Varric dropped his head into his hands. Hours, that's all it had taken for them to go from fucking to fighting.

"You're a difficult woman to love, Cassandra Pentaghast."

She snarled and threw the waterskin back at him. "I know what I am, Varric! I am blunt, difficult and self righteous. But my heart lies beneath all that. It yearns for things I cannot have. If you cannot see that-"

"You can have them, Cassandra," Varric said quietly. "You should, you deserve everthing- flowers, poetry by candlelight, and your own prince charming. Not some cowardly old dwarf. You deserve better than that- better than me."

He reached for his clothes, thinking if he started out now he just might reach Skyhold by dawn, but Cassandra put out a hand to stop him.

"You have given me all those things, Varric. Tonight you brought me flowers. Better than poetry, you have written me romance novels-"

"Still missing the candles, Seeker."

She inclined her head towards the tent door, "we have a campfire. And starlight. You are the man I want, Varric Tethras. But I will have all of you, or none."

She turned her back to him then and pulled the furs from her bedroll over her body and up to her chin. Varric watched for a time, until her breathing slowed and she fell asleep.

Then he dressed, dug notebook and quill out from his pack, and made his way out of the tent to go write by the campfire.

#

They didn't speak over breakfast that morning. The hike back to Skyhold was mostly silent as well, except for brief exchanges when they needed to stop and rest.

When they crossed the gates into the courtyard, Cassandra unceremoniously dropped her pack off with the first Inquisition officer they saw, then made a beeline for the training yard and began to hack away at a dummy. Varric was sure she was imagining his own face on top of that straw body.

Varric, on the other hand, took his time unpacking. He stopped by the Undercroft to check on Dagna, then wandered back to his quarters. He ordered a bath and a meal, then spent a good hour soaking off the road dust. Finally, feeling refreshed, made his way up to visit Leliana in the rookery.

"Varric," the hooded spymaster nodded in greeting. "It is good to see you, I had expected you back last night."

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Nightingale. Here, I brought you a present to make up for it," he offered her a single bloom of Andraste's Grace. "There was a patch of them in the mountains, Cass said they were your favorite."

Leliana accepted the flower and smiled, raising an eyebrow, "they are, thank you Varric. But...it is 'Cass' now? Not 'Seeker'?"

Varric shrugged, "just something I'm trying out. Anyway, I was hoping you could lend me a raven? One bound for Val Royeaux, the Davri workshops " he reached into his pocket and retrieved the note he'd spent all night writing.

Leliana examined the papers, "this envelope is not even sealed, Varric. And I know for a fact you keep your own spy network, and your own birds."

"I wanted you to read it. Maybe get word back to a certain angry warrior?"

She nodded knowingly, then opened the envelope and withdrew the letter. "This isn't even in code. Varric, you are practically inviting assassins to the Inquisition's doorstep!"

"Trust me, I've got a plan, Nightingale. It's a shitty plan, but it's all mine."

Leliana smirked, then sealed the envelope with wax and the Inquisition's signet and tied it to a raven bound for Orlais.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Master Tethras."

Varric chuckled softly, "I never do."

#

It was barely a week later when Varric was seated at his usual place in the main hall, and felt the cold pick of a dagger on the back of his neck.

"Greetings from House Vasca," a deep, gravelly voice behind him mumbled.

Varric took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt for the dagger hidden beneath his table. He might not make it, but he could at least make the assassins regret taking the job.

Next thing he knew there was a terrific clang, and the hall was buzzing with activity. Inquisition agents came running and shouting for backup, one of the masked Orlesian dignitaries screamed, and the would-be assassins lay unconscious at his feet.

Varric looked up, and there was Cassandra, teeth bared and snarling. She'd knocked out two assassins with one shield-bash. Varric thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

"Take them to Leliana for questioning," Cassandra barked. "Now!"

The Inquisition agents sprang into action as Varric grabbed Cassandra by the hand and pulled her from the main hall and towards his room.

"Varric, are you well? You are bleeding-"

"Only a scratch, Seeker," he said, as he pulled her into his chambers and shut the door. "I'll live, thanks to you."

He hopped up onto a stepstool, then pulled his tall warrior woman down for a kiss. She broke away a moment later, smiling.

"Leliana warned me they were coming. I assume this means your message was received?"

"Yep, I'm all yours now Cass. If you'll have me."

"Cass?"

"Just something I'm trying out-"

"I like it Varric. You need not call me 'Seeker' any longer. I am found."

Varric grinned. "That was horrible, Cass. Sounds like something I'd write," and pulled her down for another kiss.

#

Later they lay in bed, a sprawl of limbs and tangled sheets. Varric was idly running his fingers through Cassandra's hair, undoing and rebraiding her crown over and over.

"What will you write of me, when this is all done?" Cassandra asked softly. "That I stood at your side, you protector and lover, that it was meant to be? Or that I was led from the path of faith by the wiles of a lying dwarf?"

Varric grinned and propped himself up on his elbow, "I think I'll write...Seeker Pentaghast had the best ass in all of Thedas."

"Lying dwarf it is." Cassandra laughed, then grew suddenly solemn again. "I have feared you since the moment I laid eyes on you, all those months ago in Kirkwall. I have never known anything like it." She turned to Varric, "I told you of Regalyn? After he died at the Conclave..." She trailed off, then shook her head as if to drive away the dark thoughts. "Varric, you named your crossbow for Bianca so that you might feel close to her, even when you were apart. It need not be so for us. I do not need you to name your weapon after me, because we will never be separated for long." She turned to look him in the eye, "whatever happens, I will not let you be taken from me."

"Be still me heart," Varric said, taking her hand. "I've grown on you."

"Yes," Cassandra said with a smile. "Like a fungus."

#


End file.
